With only one arm free he could not draw himself and Edmé up the steep incline. Twice he succeeded in catching a tuft of grass or projecting root, and each time the force of the current broke his hold upon it, and twirling them round like straws carried them on down the stream. Gaillard, who had been struck by a splinter on the forehead, was at first stunned by the blow, and without struggling was swept fifty yards down the river. The cold water brought him back to consciousness, and he struck out for the shore. He noticed, some hundred yards below, a place where the river swept to the south and where the bank was considerably lower. Allowing himself to be borne along by the current, he took an occasional stroke to carry him in toward the shore, and made the point easily. Drawing himself from the water by some overhanging bushes, he shook himself like a wet dog, and sitting on the river's edge proceeded to bind up his injured eye, while with the other he looked anxiously along the river-side. Suddenly he bent down and caught at an object in the water. "Let me take the girl," he said quickly. "Now your hand on this bush--there!" And with a swift motion he drew Edmé up, and Tournay, relieved of her weight, swung himself to their side. For a short time they lay panting on the bank. Gaillard was the first to get upon his feet. "We shall perish of cold here," he exclaimed, springing up and down to warm his benumbed blood, while the wet ends of his yellow neckerchief flapped about his forehead. "Can you walk, Mademoiselle de Rochefort?" Edmé placed her hand upon her side to still the sharp shooting pain, and answered "Yes." "Good; the road is only a few rods from here, but we must follow it at least two miles to the west." "I shall be able to do it!" As she uttered these words the pain in her side increased. She felt her strength leave her, and but for the support of Tournay's arm she would have fallen to the ground. "She has fainted," cried Tournay in consternation. "No," she remonstrated feebly, struggling with the numbness that was overpowering her. "It is the cold. Let me rest for a moment; I shall be better soon." "Mademoiselle, you must walk, else you will die of cold," exclaimed Tournay. "Take her by the arm, Gaillard." Instead of complying with the request, Gaillard stood with head bent forward peering up the road into the night gloom. "Gaillard! man, do you not hear me?" "The carriage! I hear the rattle of its wheels," cried Gaillard joyfully. "Agatha can always be depended upon to do the right thing at the right moment!" "Hurry to meet her," cried Tournay; "tell her we are here!" Gaillard sprang rapidly forward, shouting as he ran. "Courage but a little moment longer," whispered Tournay, and taking Edmé in his arms he followed Gaillard as fast as his burden permitted. She had not entirely lost consciousness, but cold and fatigue had combined to enervate and render her powerless of motion.